


i just really miss season 1 y'all

by taylor_tut



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Exhaustion, Gen, Overworking, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: A drabble request from my tumblr! Season 1 fluff featuring Tim trying his hardest to make Jon's life easier at his own expense.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 70





	i just really miss season 1 y'all

For someone who claims he hasn't the faintest idea what he's doing, Jon always seems busy. Sasha knows the demands of being the Head Archivist--in fact, she’d interviewed for it a month ago, and it had seemed like Elias was on track to promote her, but then, without any sort of explanation, he’d given the position to Jon, who is, in all honesty, a lot less qualified. Tim knows Jon feels guilty about that, particularly because Sasha’s feelings were hurt (as much as she tries to deny it), and Tim suspects that there’s probably no small amount of compensation happening here. Jon wants so badly to prove that he can do the job that he tries to delegate as little work as he can, often ending in long, boring days without much work for the assistants and Elias scolding Jon for coming in early and staying too late. 

Though he’d always been a bit of a perfectionist, at least since Tim has known him, Jon has never been this bad. Sometimes it really appears as though he’ll come undone, but he always manages to pull it back together, if only just. 

That’s why, when Jon finally asks Tim for help on a project, looking exhausted and stressed, Tim accepts without even thinking about it, and why when, a few hours later, Tim is sure he’s come down with the flu based on how fast it hit him, he doesn’t mention anything. 

That was at 10 yesterday morning, and now it’s nearly 1:00 the following day and Tim is struggling to keep his eyes open at his desk. 

Martin has been fussing; Sasha has been angry at him for not calling out sick; both of them swear Jon will be fine if Tim leaves without finishing whatever errand he’s sent him on. 

Neither of them know Jon the way Tim does. Jon asks for help once and only once, and it’s when he’s out of other options. If Tim isn’t here for him now, he’ll lose the chance. 

However, between the difficulty remaining awake long enough to get anything done and the way his thoughts feel as though they’re bubbling up from the bottom of a vat of treacle, he’s sure that everything he’s written down is useless or nonsense. 

Fuck. Jon is going to be so angry. 

Steeling himself to be shouted at, Tim takes his stack of files and attempts to straighten them out a little bit before entering Jon’s office. 

Jon doesn’t like when people knock on the door. Mostly, he actually tries to leave his office door open unless he’s really busy, but it’s been shut more and more often, recently. He makes excuses for the knocking aversion--that if his door is closed, it’s for a reason, or that they should just come in and get it over with if they’ve already interrupted him, anyway--but Tim has a feeling it’s more than that. 

“Knock, knock,” he says aloud from the other side of the door.

“Oh, good; Tim. Come in.” 

Tim does, shuffling forward to place the pile on the corner of Jon’s desk. Without looking up, Jon takes them and looks over them, flipping through pages quickly, his expression unreadable. 

They’re terrible, Tim suddenly knows. None of it is right, and he should have had Sasha or Martin read over it before he turned them in, because there’s no way—

“Tim,” Jon says, his voice unusually soft. “Have a seat.” 

Can Jon even sack him? Is that a power he has? God, he’s freezing. 

“If they’re not up to par, I can—”

“No,” Jon curtails. “I don’t c--the files are--I’m just.”

Tim allows the misery to part wide enough for a small smile. “Cat got your tongue, Boss?” 

“Tim, I’m serious. Have you checked your blood sugar?”

He hesitates. “My blood sugar? Why?” 

“Your handwriting is all over the place,” Jon says. That’s fair--Tim usually has a neat, flared cursive, unmistakable and pristine. The chills and the dozing off have been making it rather unrecognizable. He’d thought about typing his notes out, but with everything Jon has on his plate, he’d been sure he wouldn’t notice. Finally, he looks up, frowning. “You’re pale, and shaking--sit down, I said, come on.” He stands up to help, but when Tim shakes off the surprise and takes a seat in the chair opposite Jon’s desk, Jon begins to rummage through his top drawer. “I’ve got glucose tabs in here, somewhere, I should have--damn it all, should keep them—”

“Jon,” Tim interjects, the rare use of his first name rather than some infuriating nickname being enough to catch his fleeting attention. “Relax. Take a breath. I’m okay.”

Jon scoffs. “Look at you. You’re not.” 

“Well, fine. But it’s not--it’s just a bug, I think.”

That stops Jon’s frantic drawer-rummaging. “What?” 

“I’m just not feeling well, but it’s fine. Few days rest and I’ll sleep it off.” 

"Why didn't you say something?" Jon asks, and Tim frowns. 

"You're one to talk."

"Avoiding the question." 

"You're damn right I am."

Jon sighs, balling a fist and releasing it in an attempt to let the frustration wash over him like a wave rather than swallow him whole. 

"Right," he concedes. "Of course, you--you've a right to your privacy. I just. Wish I'd known."

And it makes Tim feel guilty. He'd hidden this kind of thing from Danny, too, in a misguided attempt to spare him worrying.

"I suppose it's just that you've got bigger things to worry about, now that you're the boss. You’ve got a lot on your plate.””

Jon looks mortified. “You were feeling like this when I asked you for help and I didn’t notice?”

“No!” Tim reassures, breaking off to cough into his elbow before continuing in a rougher voice. “No. You didn’t miss anything.” To Tim’s surprise, Jon seems relieved by that reply. “I’ve been avoiding you a bit. Didn't want you to be all distracted when you're already drowning in work."

Jon's gaze flickers worriedly to the door, like Elias might overhear him agreeing, but he quickly decides that's nonsense. 

"I hope you don't just see me as your boss, now," Jon says. "I like to think of us as a team. And, of course, I asked you to join the team for a reason." 

Tim nods. "I know that, Jon. I do." Because, promotion or not, they're friends, right? Jon's still that tiny little geek that had been asked to train Tim despite only having worked at the Institute for about two weeks when Tim started, cracking him up at every turn with his blatant irritation at nearly everything and drawing him in with his weird, loner charm. 

“Right. Good. Then, when you need something, you know it’s--I mean, probably a bit hypocritical of me to say this, but it’s okay to ask for help once in a while, right?” 

"Alright," Tim finally decides, standing slowly and blinking against a head rush. "Boss, I'm not feeling so hot. May I go home early?" 

Jon frowns sympathetically at the information which is not new to him. "Of course. Do you need a ride? I could--well. I suppose I can't leave. But I could call you a cab. You oughtn't be walking all the way to the tube station alone." 

Tim shakes his head. "I drove today," he says, "and I'm fine. I'll sleep it off." 

"Don't even think about coming back until you're feeling better. Fever's got to be broken for--what is it, a day, I think? I should ask Martin--"

"Jon," Tim curtails, rubbing at one eye and wincing. "I'll be good. Promise." 

Jon nods. "I'm a call away," he reminds him. "I'll be checking on you. You'd better take care of yourself." 

"Why does that sound like a threat?"

A small smile. "You don't want to find out." 

Tim is sure he doesn't believe him, but... well, he's tired, and rest sounds good. 

"I'll see you Thursday."

"Friday, at the earliest." 

Tim laughs as he exits Jon's office. "Deal." 


End file.
